Wizard's Chess
by frothylove
Summary: One shot about the metaphorical relationship of Ronniekins and Hermione shaped into the form of Wizard's Chess.


**A/N: **My first time actually writing, planning out, and **completing **a story... even if it** is** only a one shot. Please! Any suggestions to make my writing better are greatly appreciated (not _too_ harsh though). This is a Ron/Hermione one shot that popped into my head after reading one of author, Amy Tan's short stories (about chess!).

Two explanations...

1. Anything _Italicized _- Thoughts, mutual communications. Basically they're so into each other, that they can read each other's minds sometimes (that's totally freakin' awesome).

2. The story switches back and forth between Hermione and Ron's POV (Point of View), starting with Hermione's POV.

Wizard's Chess

a _frothylove _**oneshot**

* * *

Our love is like wizard's chess. 

_Make your move._

Any wrong move, and my opponent will immediately respond with a tempting little smile.

And I will become more willing to lose to my opponent.

Just to keep seeing that smile.

But I want to keep playing this game, until _he_ gives in and I win triumphantly.

_SMACK!_

He destroys one of my pawns, and it feels like a slap to the face. I watch as his pawns drag mine off the chess board, and I cry out painfully, as if my heart is being pummeled and squeezed to a pulp by this man that sits across the imaginary board from me.

I stare silently as he magically mends my broken pawn with his wand, and places it back onto the board, with a grim smile, the pain showing clearly in his eyes, pleading for my forgiveness. Every time he does this, I wipe the tears away from my eyes, and smile just as painfully, concealing my feelings. I pretend so easily these days, that I feel like an actress in my own soap opera instead of just a normal girl playing the game of love.

* * *

I change the rules, only a bit, just for her. Maybe I'll let her win, just so she won't get mad at me.

Honestly... she's been having a bigger temper these days; as if she's had temporary PMS stuck onto her, and it follows her around everywhere she goes.

But I can see it in her eyes.

_You're pretending Hermione. _

She knows I've played this game before, and she's scared. Honestly, I'm scared too, more so than her. It freaks me out that I can take all of her pawns away so easily; that I can make her vulnerable and helpless. She can win easily against men who are all brawn and no brain, but I'm not one of those guys who have more than the other; I even out... an Average Joe Schmo as Harry puts it.

* * *

_Sometimes I wonder what will happen._

What will happen if he's not interested anymore?

I know I don't want to stop playing... but someday he might get tired of it.

And I think every day, when I wake up in the morning, "someday" comes closer and closer, looming over me like a dark cloud slowly approaching.

* * *

_I've decided. _

I'm letting her win. She probably knows I'm letting her anyway. She's not called a Brainiac for nothing.

* * *

_What are you doing?_

I take his pawns, one by one, dragging them off the board as they are smashed to smithereens. He bravely cracks a smile, but I can't smile back. I stare at him with sad eyes, knowing the pain cuts into him deeply, like a sharpened knife stabbed slowly into its victim.

When I try to give him back his pawn, he looks away from me, as if he's threatening to quit this game; **our** game. So I retract my hand and place the mended pawn back onto my side of the board.

* * *

I quietly watch as she steals my pawns, pulling out pieces of my human heart, and adding them to hers. 

She's so sweet when she puts my feelings ahead of hers. She holds out a piece of my heart, pleading with me to take it back, her eyes brimming with tears.

I turn away like the insensitive jerk most people think I am.

I shake my head.

_No. I don't want it. I want you to have it._

* * *

_I don't want it if it's hurting you._

I stare at our imaginary chessboard, my eyes glazed over with tears. I feel like I've been experiencing menopause at 17; every time I see him bent over his plate in the Dining Hall, his red hair falling into his face, I smile, and reach out to brush out the hair from his pale, freckly face. Then I remember who this man across the table from me is, and I pull my hand back quickly, and instead insult his habit of stuffing his face. He grins rudely, his cheeks stuffed. I get a hot flash from his grins, my face turning hot.

* * *

**I'm amazed.**

It's the first time I've ever seen her so flustered, so unsettled because of _me_. How did I never notice this before? So calm, so composed; she's never been this flustered around me before. I grin foolishly, and shake my head. I'm just... amazed.

* * *

I'm still staring blankly at the board. It's the last move. I know the exact move in order to win. He taught me how when he won against Lavender Brown, stealing away her heart smoothly and quickly, without getting either party hurt. And he threw it back at her just as quickly after one month.

_Do I really want his heart?_

I hesitate.

* * *

I stare at her, waiting for her to win

_I can't play this game anymore._

I stand up quickly, knocking my chair over.

_Let's just be friends._

* * *

I watch him hold his hand out shakily. 

He smiles awkwardly and says,

_Truce?_

I stare at him.

_Are you kidding me?_

* * *

She stands up, and walks around our make-believe chess board placed upon an unstable line that we mutually call 'Relationship'. She breaks past our barrier, and walks over to my side. 

_Is that all?_

I hear her talk, and the words echo through my partially stolen heart.

She pushes me, frustrated and angry.

_That's all I get from you?_

And that's when...

* * *

I cry. 

Ron's awkward, out of place smile disappears.

_You jerk._ "I hate you."

The words come flying out of my mouth, unwanted and unnecessary.

* * *

I stare at her, the frustration building, creating a brick wall between us. 

_I'm letting you win, and you hate me._

I smirk.

_Wonderful, Hermione._

I place the last piece of my heart forcefully into her hands.

* * *

_Congratulations. You win._

He sets his chair upright, and the words bounce off the walls, echoing into emptiness as he walks away.

* * *

_Wait._

I hear her call out. I stop, waiting to hear her next words.

_Where's my prize?_

I turn around and look at her questioningly.

_Didn't I just give it to you?_

She grins at my response, and walks coyly towards me.

_Hey, Weasel. What kinda prize is this?_

* * *

I saunter up towards Ron, holding his heart out. 

_It's incomplete._

My smile grows bigger, as he looks even more confused at my statement.

* * *

_How is it incom—?_

She stands up on her toes, and puts her arms around my neck. She presses her lips gently upon mine, her cherry lips leaving an imprint upon mine. The hair on my arms stand up, and a thrilling sensation runs up and down my spine.

She gasps as I deepen the kiss, my arms wound around her waist.

"Now is your prize complete?" I question, grinning wickedly.

"Yes. It feels like a victory, I suppose," she responds smiling happily.


End file.
